A day for us to see who we are

January 22, 2009

When 13 of us boarded the bus Monday, we knew we were going to Washington, D.C., to see Barack Obama. And yes, that's where the bus took us. We 13 from a South Bend church were among the 5 million or so gathered in the nation's capital on that special day Tuesday. And yes, we saw our new president. We saw him on one of the huge TV screens positioned on the Mall. But where we really went and what we really saw was something more important. We found a new image of ourselves. Our faces, black and proud, shine with extra confidence now. We know who we are and where we've been. We have a greater sense now of where we can go. The bus trip was grueling. We boarded at 4:15 p.m. Monday, stopped in Elkhart to pick up 25 more people and in Middlebury for 10 or so more. We traveled at night, all night. When we arrived in Washington, with the sea of people, so many of whom looked like us, we knew how easy it would be to get lost. I saw the fear in the face of Brenda Martin Grove after she was separated from our group. She was searching this enormous crowd for any familiar face. We caught each other and stayed together for the rest of the day. In the freezing weather, we held hands to ward off the frostbite. She shared with me her Hot Pockets, the hand warmers she had brought along. We watched the ceremony on a TV, the same as millions of other people everywhere in the world. But, being there, we felt something extra. We were part of this moment, this pause in the journey we and our people are taking. We knew this was the man who will help us change ourselves. We were proud that he has chosen as his partner a sho-nuff black woman, strong, smart and beautiful. And we thought about what it took, as black women, to get us here. A new friend, Cynthia Williams, told me it's a shame that we've been taught as children that we have to work twice as long and twice as hard to be treated like everyone else. No matter what we've accomplished, we've always felt that we're not good enough, that we can't please the people who are judging us. The bus trip home was just as long. It was just as dark. But in many ways, our path has been lighted for us. We don't need to hide who we are. We don't need to be ashamed that our skin is black. It is up to us where we go and who we'll be. I feel like I'm just beginning. May Lee Johnson Tales from the West Side May Lee Johnson is a Tribune staff writer.